


I'll Walk You Home

by SicklyWrites



Series: Gareth Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: (Together), Anal, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, NSFW, PWP, Porn, Porn Without Plot, but help a sister out and comment if you see something off, handers - Freeform, pretty much, proof reading is for dweebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SicklyWrites/pseuds/SicklyWrites
Summary: Hawke offers to walk Anders home, with a little detour to his estate.
Relationships: Anders & Hawke, Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke
Series: Gareth Hawke [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945357
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	I'll Walk You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written much of anything in about four years, but I'm replaying DA2, so here's some Hawke/Anders smut. If you see any glaring grammar/spelling/other issue, please let me know, I'm very rusty. Hope everyone is staying safe out there <3

Anders sat beside Varric, watching him destroy Merrill, Sebastian, Aveline and Fenris at cards. Isabela was only watching for this round, which she said was now just as entertaining as playing. Standing beside the table with her arms crossed under her breasts, she couldn’t contain her grin watching Merrill try to cheat with a card so obviously hanging out of her sleeve. No one had told her yet.

Anders had found it funny, but there was something more important to watch for the moment. Hawke had volunteered to buy the group their next round. Anders thought it quite funny that even before he was living in a mansion he was still buying them drinks. Nothing had changed, and he admired that about him. What he admired more was the way the giant man leant forward at the bar, talking idly to Corff as he poured drinks, his ass unintentionally - he assumed - poked out like a whore gathering business, and what a good ass it was.

“Why are you biting your lip, Anders?” Merrill asked suddenly, shooting Anders right out of his daze.

“What?”

“You were biting your lip,” she said innocently, “Isabela said that’s your tell but you’re not playing.”

Varric chuckled, glancing down at his own cards like he wasn’t part of the conversation. Anders was sure he knew exactly why he was biting his lip.

“Oh, Kitten, you don’t just let people know what their tell is,” Isabela said, placing a hand on Merrill’s arm and then poking her card back up her sleeve. Merrill blushed, realising what she had done and now  _ everyone _ had seen her cheating.

“Let her go, Rivaini,” Varric smirked, “I don’t think it makes a difference.”

“Oh…  _ sorry, _ ” Merrill sighed.

Anders sat there, his back up straight like he was being inconspicuous, making so certain that he wasn’t biting his lip that he was almost pouting. Fenris watched him for a moment, looked over his shoulder to where Hawke was at the bar, and rolled his eyes, returning to the game.

Hawke came over with a smile on his face, placing the drinks around the table and then sitting in the free spot beside Anders with his own pint. He was startled by Hawke’s thigh just lightly touching his for a moment before he adjusted.

“Who’s winning?” Hawke asked, throwing his head back and guzzling down the piss they served here. Anders tried not to be suspicious, just getting a glance of Hawke’s Adam’s apple, bobbing up and down as he drank. That  _ neck, _ he thought, as thick and strong as the rest of him.  _ The rest of him. _ He felt heat rise in his cheeks and held his own drink with both hands, staring forward.

“Are you okay, Anders?” Aveline said, as obliviously as Merrill had asked him about his lip.

“I was thinking the same thing. Are you running a fever?” Sebastian added, “Your cheeks are bright red.”

“What? No, I--” Anders muttered. Maker’s breath he couldn’t even sit there and not be giving away his every thought. “It’s just a little warm in here.”

What a pitiful excuse.

“Go on, give us the strip tease and cool off,” Isabela winked. Maybe Isabela was onto him as well.

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Hawke chuckled, and a fresh wave of white hot heat flushed in Anders’s whole face. Was he kidding?

Hawke had always been pretty open about flirting with him at any given chance, but that seemed to be just what he was like. He and Isabela flirted almost non stop, and it had never amounted to anything as far as Anders knew. Maybe it had. His heart sunk.

Even Varric copped a bit of light flirtation, which always made for a good laugh between them, but gods, maybe that had turned into something too. His mind raced with the idea that no one was safe from Hawke’s charm, it was just him that took it too seriously.

_ “Stop,”  _ Justice said in the back corners of his mind, echoing through his brain in the form of a headache. Anders was almost agreeing with him for a change. This had gotten so out of hand, and he was sure it was meaningless. He scolded himself for all the nights he lay awake just thinking of Hawke. How he squirmed when the thoughts became a little naughtier - which was more often than he would ever admit.

It was always the same, too. He and Hawke alone in the mansion, Bodahn, Sandal and Leandra gone. Just them, no one else. Hawke would lead Anders to his bedroom and walk him backwards onto the bed, laying him down and kissing his neck, hard against his thigh.

Maker, this wasn’t helping the redness in his cheeks go away.

“You sure you’re alright?” Hawke asked, bringing him back to reality again. His throat tightened as he felt Hawke’s hand gently on his thigh. It was more concerned than sexual but every sense he had honed in on the touch. He must have looked like a cornered animal.

“Y-yes, I’m alright, just tired or something.”

“Tiredness doesn’t make you break a sweat,” Hawke said, his stupid lopsided smile and his bright blue eyes and the light stubble on his face and the  _ Maker’s breath, _ the  _ everything. _

“You know, I think maybe I should just go home, it’s been a long day,” Anders said, feigning a smile and trying to stand up. He realised half way up that his knees were going to give out and he was so outrageously hard that he was straining against his trousers.

“I’ll walk you there,” Hawke said, “it’s late.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to--”

“Too late,” Hawke said, standing up quickly and chugging down the last of his pint - which was most of it. The Adam’s apple made a reappearance.

For the last few years all Anders had ever wanted was time alone with Hawke. There was always someone, or something, in the way of them just being alone together. Now, he wanted nothing more than to run home by himself, hide under his sheets and never be seen again by anyone.

“Really, I’m fine to walk--”

“Yes,” Hawke interrupted.

_ “No,”  _ Justice responded, louder than before but for only Anders to hear. He wasn’t quite glowing yet.

“I’m taking you home and that’s final, young man,” Hawke said with a smile, slamming his tankard down and leading Anders from the table. Anders’s heart was now hitting top speeds inside his chest, banging around on his sternum. Varric was chuckling to himself, which made things so much worse.

“Just let the man walk you home,” Isabela said, taking their seats as they stood so they couldn’t go back. She crossed one leg over the other and gave Anders’s a sly smile that Hawke couldn’t see, and a suggestive wave of her fingers. Anders felt his eyebrow twitch up at her, which only turned her smile into a grin. There was no doubt now that she knew exactly what she was doing.

“She’s right,” Aveline said, “things are dangerous in Lowtown at night.”   
“Come on, handsome,” Hawke said. Anders was fairly used to being called that now, but it never hit any less than it did the first time. Merrill gave a much more innocent wave to the two of them as they headed for the door.

“See you tomorrow!”

* * *

They were outside the Hanged Man when Hawke gave Anders a more serious look.   
“Are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t been yourself.”

They started walking in the direction of the clinic, where Anders had been sleeping every night.   
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, really. I…” Anders tried to think of an excuse. “I’m just a little worried about the clinic.”

“Why don’t you ignore the clinic for a night and come stay with me,” Hawke said, smiling. It didn’t seem suggestive, but Anders had all but given up on his sense of whether things meant more than they did or not.

He felt like a fumbling idiot. Normally when he liked a person it didn’t take long for him to make it known and get things going, but with Hawke he was so painfully slow and nervous. He never had any idea what to say, and whenever he said  _ anything _ it was wrong. It was a wonder Hawke even still spoke to him.

“That’s okay, I can just go home.”

“I’ve decided that I’m not giving you a choice,” Hawke said, placing a hand on Anders’s back and directing him on the path towards the estate. Anders giggled - Maker, he  _ giggled _ \- and cleared his throat as if that made up for it.

“And if I resist?”

“I’ll pick you up and carry you over my shoulder,” Hawke said. Anders didn’t doubt it in the slightest. He was more than capable, standing almost a full head taller than Anders. When he fought, he fought with a greataxe that was almost as tall as he was, swinging it like it was nothing. The man was enormous, every part of him solid.

“Maybe I should resist then,” Anders said, then quickly feeling the need to cover himself, “just so I don’t have to walk.”

“You know I would,” Hawke said, and turned to go home.

* * *

They reached the front door of the Hawke-Amell estate, which Anders had been inside a few times when he needed Hawke’s help, or when Hawke had invited everyone over for drinks. Nothing so one-on-one.

“Mother is visiting Gamlen tonight, and Bodahn and Sandal are probably asleep I suppose. It is rather late,” Hawke said, opening the door for Anders like the gentleman he was. A gentleman that could single-handedly behead any group of bandits that would have approached them on the way.

The place smelled of home, somehow. Like books and stone and firewood. The hearth glowed a welcoming orange, fire crackling quietly beside where Hawke’s mabari lied asleep on the rug. He only lifted his head for a moment, Anders supposed to check if they were intruders, before rolling onto his side and sighing.

“What a good guard dog,” Anders said. He had seen that dog tear chunks out of anyone that came near them, and although he was a cat person, he respected the thing a great deal. He also thought the way Hawke grabbed his head in both hands and scratched behind his ears, telling him what a handsome boy he was, was incredibly cute.

“I have wine if you’d like,” Hawke said, leaning down to throw another piece of firewood into the flames. Anders swallowed his anxiety, watching Hawke’s bare arms flex when he picked up the wood - a piece Anders would have had to pick up with both hands - and his ass stick out once again. Something about him bent over did things to him. Maybe it was the vulnerability around him, or the imagery of Anders underneath him as he did it.

“Uh, that’s okay, Justice doesn’t let me drink.”

Hawke rolled his eyes playfully, standing back up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Not even a little bit?”

Maker’s breath, those arms. He could pick Anders up and throw him across Kirkwall if he wanted.

“I… maybe a little bit.”

Hawke smiled and lifted a finger in a ‘one moment’ gesture, and disappeared out a side door.

“You know, I really do mean a little bit,” Anders reiterated, “we have qunari to argue with tomorrow.”

“Fuck the qunari,” Hawke said, his voice raised, from the other room. Anders let out a little laugh under his breath and wandered towards the fireplace, leaning against the stone. Hawke returned to him with a glass in each hand. Anders was almost shocked the glasses weren’t filled to their brim.

“I didn’t take you for a wine man,” Anders said, taking his glass. They looked tiny in Hawke’s hands.

“I am a man of refined tastes,” Hawke said, winking and then throwing back the whole glass in one shot. Anders covered his mouth to unsuccessfully stifle a laugh. He’d clearly done it on purpose, winking as he put the empty glass down on the mantle, his arm passing Anders over the shoulder as he did so.

“See?”

Anders nodded, taking a nervous sip, “I do, that was as classy as they come. Orlais would be proud.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he laughed, “with your looks and my etiquette, we could take over the region.”

“Ha -  _ my _ looks, says…  _ you. _ ”

Hawke gave him almost the same sly look as Isabela did earlier. He leant forward, winding Anders by his mere presence. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but how close he was, how he smelled.

“What are you saying?”

Anders couldn’t help the shaky smile on his face.

“You know exactly what I mean. You can’t look like you do and not be aware of it,” he said, scrambling to save himself.

“And what do I look like?”

Anders was so painfully aware of how close they were, how that little bit of height over him made him feel so small and powerless.

“You know, tall, strong, a jawline that could cut through glass if you wanted. Those blue eyes, your arms, your…”

_ Ass. _

“And you’ve been paying attention, have you?” Hawke said. He wasn’t moving.

“I… it’s hard not to.”

“Well, while we’re exchanging compliments,” he said, placing one hand on the wall behind Anders, the other hand gently touching his hip. Anders didn’t mean to buck the way he did, his hips twitching forward just  _ aching _ to be held. “I could say a few things about you.”

Anders simply stared him in the eyes, clutching onto his wine so hard the glass threatened on breaking. Now more than ever, he was a cornered animal, shaking in his boots. He could feel his trousers warm and tight around his groin. He internally begged for Hawke not to look down and see how strained he was - or perhaps that’s what he was aiming for.

“And what would you say?” he asked. Hawke licked his lips slightly, moving back only a little to remove his hand from Anders’s hip and instead take his glass of wine, putting it on the mantle beside his own. Anders let him. He could have done anything to him and Anders would have let him.

Hawke leant even closer again, his hand returning to Anders’s hip, this time less gentle. His fingers curled around him, pulling him this time. Anders’s breath came shakily from between his parted lips as they pressed together. Whatever  _ stiffness _ was going on, he begged the Maker to let his robes fall in a way that it wasn’t so obvious to Hawke. But of course it was. How could it not be? He didn’t think he’d ever been as hard in his life.

Hawke raised an eyebrow ever so slightly to the feeling of Anders against himself.

“I’d say you’re an honourable man…” Hawke started, tilting his head like he was sizing Anders up beneath his grasp like a snake. His hot breath grazed Anders’s cheek, making his whole body shiver, his eyes lowering to Anders’s neck, to his lips, to his chest. “I’d say you’re kind, honest, attractive…  _ hard. _ ”

Hawke knew. He definitely knew.

Anders was suddenly aware that his hands were by his sides, lost and confused. While Hawke gently squeezed his hip, pressing them together, he dared touch the man. He lifted his hands to Hawke’s waist, broad and strong and solid, heat radiating off him. He was so obviously pressing himself into Anders that thinking about those intentions made him dizzy.

Anders pressed back, testing the waters, feeling now that it wasn’t just him who was hard. His lips curved into a coy smile, one he couldn’t help. Looking up, he realised Hawke was looking into his eyes, smiling contently, his eyes half lidded in such a slow and sultry way that captivated Anders to no end.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Anders asked, amazed that he had said such a thing.

Hawke grinned.

“Do you  _ want _ me to do something about it?” he asked. A gentleman as always. Even as Anders was practically begging for it, he was still asking permission. Anders could only nod, bordering on frantic.  _ Yes, yes, Maker, yes! _

Hawke’s hand slid up from Anders’s hip, over his side, over his chest and to his shoulder before it embraced his neck. Their noses touched slightly, Hawke giving him a little warning nudge before tilting his head, taking his lips to his. His coarse thumb ran along Anders’s neck, a little hard in a dominating kind of way. His lips were soft, gentle, but hot and wanting. Hawke’s teeth grazed against Anders’s bottom lip, before his tongue came to gently soothe the feeling. Anders was completely captivated by him, daring to tease him with his tongue. Hawke took the opportunity at once, his thumb pressing to Anders’s jawline. His tongue was as he was, as gentle as it was strong, somehow asking for permission as much as it was forcing itself on him.

Some kind of sound escaped Anders, a whining moan of  _ please, please, yes, please. _ Hawke smiled against his lips and pulled away.

“Are you okay?” he asked. A tease, as usual. “Do you want me to stop.”

Anders was almost frustrated by it - Maker,  _ no, _ if you stopped I would rip you in two.

“Absolutely not,” was the only thing he could say. Hawke gave him one more slow peck, one Anders leant into a little more than he, before Hawke started across his jaw and down onto his neck.

Another shaky breath as Hawke sucked what was no doubt a new mark into Anders’s skin - but he didn’t care, let the man mark his whole body if he wished. Distracted by the shivers emanating from his neck, he didn’t notice Hawke’s hand at first, delving between his robes and to the top of his trousers. Hawke’s fingers danced lazily at his belt, undoing it with no issue, releasing a little tension where his trousers strained. Anders moaned, one arm now around Hawke’s neck, his other hand on his shoulder, which slowly moved up and down with each slow and purposeful breath.

All tension was lost as Hawke had him completely from his trousers, taking him in one hand and giving him a gentle squeeze.

_ “Oh,” _ was all he could say, Hawke holding him in one strong hand, now stroking him slowly, too slowly. He was such a fucking  _ tease. _

Hawke released Anders’s neck from his lips and returned the eye contact. Anders could feel himself dripping on Hawke’s skin, almost ashamed of himself and how impossibly worked up he had become. Hawke only smiled, those half-lidded eyes looking down on him like he was prey. He might as well have said ‘you’re welcome.’

“Please, Hawke,” Anders whined.

“If you say so,” Hawke responded, his voice low and gruff. Anders wasn’t even completely sure what he’d asked for until Hawke kissed him once more on the lips and then slowly moved down onto his knees, flicking the belt that kept his robes together undone on the way. Anders’s whole body filled with panic and excitement in equal parts, his knees threatening to give out again.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” he said, not even completely in control of what he was saying, but his cock was already hard and throbbing in Hawke’s hand, his robes already hanging apart. Gently, Hawke stroked him, giving a few teasing kisses to his thighs on either side of where Anders so desperately wanted them to be. He was filled with insecurity, wishing he could hide what was now eye-level with the man. He had never been insecure about his size before, it’s not like this was his first time fooling around, but if Hawke was as giant in his trousers as he was everywhere else, Anders must have looked miniscule.

Those worries simply disappeared as Hawke took nearly his entire length into his mouth all at once. The teasing was over, thank the Maker, and Anders fell hard against the wall behind him, one hand on the stone and the other now knuckles-deep in Hawke’s dark hair. He felt Hawke’s head bob beneath his hand, now taking his entire length between his warm, soft,  _ wet  _ lips.

What was almost words came out as a stuttered moan, his mouth parting in pleasure. Hawke stroked him as he sucked, his tongue flat against the bottom of Anders’s shaft, curling at the top in an almost ‘come hither’ kind of way. A  _ fill up my mouth, love, _ kind of way. His grasp was firm, his rhythm perfect.

Anders was now nearly melting in his grasp, shaking like a leaf and ready to give out at any moment as Hawke’s pace quickened. He seemed as desperate as Anders was, a little moan vibrating through Anders’s cock, so deep it was bordering his throat. He could feel saliva drip down his balls, such a ridiculously vulgar thing that he felt shameful just thinking about it - but only for a second before he noted how incredibly hot it was. The enthusiasm was mutual.

It hardly took a minute before Anders was reaching his peak. He’d done this before, but not once had it taken so little time to get him so close.

_ “Hawke,” _ Anders breathed. “I’m…”

That’s all it took. Hawke slowed, taking Anders from his mouth slowly, then kissing the side of his cock just twice before kneeling away, looking up at Anders with a smile.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said, standing up and grabbing Anders’s by each hip. Anders smiled, then squeaked as Hawke grabbed him by each thigh and lifted him. Anders wrapped his legs around Hawke’s waist, his arms around his shoulders. It was only when Hawke started walking upstairs towards his room did it occur to him that Bodahn and Sandal could have appeared at any moment and seen Anders balls-deep in his mouth. He smiled at the thought, all though was relieved it didn’t happen.

Hawke kicked open his door, Anders clinging onto him as scared as he was aroused. He turned and kicked the door shut again, bringing Anders to the bed and putting him down below him, climbing on top. Anders thought he knew what it was like to be overwhelmed by his size, but no,  _ this _ was what it was like. He was huge, caging him under his body.

Hawke smiled down at him, his hair hanging in such a cute way from his face.

“Hello.”

Anders grinned, taken aback by how adorable this man suddenly was after being so commanding.

“Hey,” he whispered. Hawke kissed him gently, lovingly, completely different than before.

“You’re wearing too much,” he whispered, one hand holding himself up as the other went to open the rest of his robe. He did it quickly, confidently, parting it open over his chest. The coolness of the room touched Anders’s chest, Hawke’s warm, calloused hand in the centre of it.

“I could say the same about you,” Anders responded. Hawke gave him a smirk and sat up on his knees, lifting his tunic up over his neck, off his body, and throwing it aside.

It occurred to Anders that after three years of knowing Hawke he had never seen him completely shirtless, and Maker, was it worth the wait. Hawke flexed his arms downwards in an over-the-top dramatic kind of way, popping his chest. He was only kidding but Anders still giggled like a smitten teenage girl, admiring the perfect amount of chest hair spread over such a broad shouldered beast of a man.

“Maker’s breath,” he said, fist over his mouth in an effort to stop his giggling.

“Your turn,” Hawke said, lifting Anders off of his back and slipping his robes from his body, lying him down again as the robes got discarded in a random direction off the bed. Anders had never been self conscious about his body, but compared to Hawke he looked downright scrawny. Without a word Hawke ran his hands down Anders’s sides, hooking his thumbs on his trousers and stripping him of everything until he was entirely exposed, hard and aching and ready. If he was unimpressed by how Anders’s looked lying naked before him, he sure didn’t show it. He smiled in an almost smug kind of way, and ran a hand down Anders’s pale stomach, through the hair that trailed from his navel, until he had Anders’s cock in his grasp. The moment he had him, Anders’s back arched off the bed, his toes curling.

“You’re torturing me,” he said in a low whisper. Hawke let him go and stood back, hands going to his own belt. Anders looked up, wanting to take in every bit of him as he stripped. He must have looked far too excited, but at this point he didn’t care, he wanted to see  _ all _ of him.

“I know.”

Hawke’s trousers came sliding down over his hips, his own cock coming bouncing out from under them, ready and rearing to go. Anders’s heart came racing up into his throat with a hard thud. He thought he was perfectly average in the size department, but it wasn’t only his body that Hawke made look small.

Thick, stiff and  _ excited, _ Anders couldn’t take his eyes off it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered what it was like, but it was almost comical how perfect this man’s body was.

“My eyes are up here,” Hawke laughed, kicking his trousers off and kneeling back on the bed, one knee between Anders’s. He couldn’t help but laugh in response.

“Sorry, did I look a little desperate just now?”

Hawke smirked into his next kiss.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Anders lifted his head as Hawke went in for his neck, sucking and running his teeth along his vulnerable flesh.

“You have every right to,” he breathed.

They were silent for a little while, Hawke gently grinding against Anders in a gentle yet dominating kind of way, pressing for his own release. Anders pressed back desperately, one leg curling around Hawke’s. Hawke kissed him from the chest to the collarbone before lifting himself and looking down at Anders with such a heated gaze that it almost scared him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Anders knew that at this point he was at risk of having a heart attack, or maybe breaking a rib from it bouncing around so hard, or even his face bursting into flames from how furiously he was blushing. He nodded, it was the only thing he could do. Hawke smiled, lifting Anders’s leg by the thigh and pressing their groins closer.

“I’ll admit it, I’ve wanted to fuck you for a _ while _ now.”

His hand delved between Anders’s legs, running a thumb along the side of his shaft before his middle and ring finger found his ass. Anders shuddered, his legs tensing in anticipation.

“You have?”

Hawke nodded, the tips of his fingers teasing him, pressing and circling.

“You don’t know how hot you are when you’re fighting,” he said, “the passion you have inside you. The fire.”

Anders could have easily said the same thing. When Hawke fought, he was like a man-shaped battering ram, all speed and power and ferocity. It was almost scary, until the man smiled and joked about something serious and then he was just  _ Hawke  _ again. It was hard to think of those two sides as being part of one person. But this was a side he hadn’t seen, a part he so desperately  _ did _ want to see. It was unreal what was happening, but he was revelling in every second of it.

Hawke stopped his teasing, pressing one knuckle deep. Anders squirmed in the best way, Hawke at his neck, his shoulder, then his ear.

“Is that okay for you?” he whispered, his voice hot and low. Anders nodded feverously. “Do you want more?”

Hawke pressed until he was two knuckles deep now, a slow and steady pace unwinding Anders until he felt he was melting into the bed. A combination of his hand, his breath and his voice was making him a puddle. He moaned into his clenched teeth, stroking himself between their bodies.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Hawke whispered, deeper again.

“P-please, I--”

“What do you want, gorgeous?”

_ “You!” _

Hawke grinned, kissing him on the ear before leaning back and gently removing his fingers.

“Me?”

Anders nodded, practically panting for him. Hawke stroked him a little, his hard, dripping cock pressing against where Anders so desperately wanted him. Anders was filled with fear and excitement over his size, just wanting to feel him inside.

“You’re so…” he began, grinding his hips on Hawke’s erection.

“Yes?”

“Just  _ fuck  _ me,” he begged. “I want you to fuck me.”

Varric had often described Hawke - in his books and in person - as being ‘roguishly handsome.’ Now more than ever, he thought it was accurate. That smile, flashing his teeth and crinkling his nose.

“If you insist,” Hawke said, one hand on Anders’s hip and the other grasping himself.

Anders felt his tip press against him, then slowly enter him. His back arched unintentionally, his eyes closing and his lips parting. Hawke moaned as he pushed, and it occurred to Anders that until this point it had been all about  _ his _ pleasure, not Hawke’s.

The moan was low, genuine and slow.

“You feel so  _ good, _ ” Hawke sighed, wrapping his hand around Anders’s cock, the other now tighter on his hip. Anders didn’t know what to say, his every sense had abandoned him. Even Justice had shut up. There wasn’t a single person outside of this room, no one berating them or asking for their help, it was just  _ this _ , nothing to interrupt.

Hawke’s pace slowly quickened, and Maker’s breath, he had never felt so full. The stretch nearly killed him in the best way, each thrust sending him closer to the edge already.

“Look at you just  _ taking _ it,” Hawke said, grabbing Anders by each leg, lifting them to his hips. He felt like a little fuck-toy, and he  _ loved _ it. Let him take it. Let him take everything Hawke had to give.

Hawke slowed, his grip on Anders’s legs tightening until he was leaving little fingernail marks on his pale skin. With one purposeful thrust he entered Anders completely, grunting low and  _ happily _ as Anders’s whole body reacted, squirming. Anders’s hands wrapped around Hawke’s wrists, holding him in place while he began his thrusting once more, their bodies in sync now.

For a while Anders had his eyes closed, enjoying each motion, each roll of Hawke’s hips. When he opened them again, Hawke was grinning ear to ear with his bottom lip between gritted teeth, a little sweat forming on his forehead. Anders huffed a laugh, positive that he was sweating just a little bit, too.

“What are you so smug about?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he responded, “I’ve never seen my little rebel so relaxed.”

Anders’s smile turned into something entirely goofy, he was sure.  _ My _ little rebel? His heart fluttered.

“Come here,” Hawke said, grabbing Anders by the arm and pulling him upwards until he was mounting his lap. Hawke sat on his feet, big, strong thighs as Anders’s seat, amongst other things. Anders wrapped his arms around the man, grinding himself on him, feeling his hard cock tight against Hawke’s stomach.

“You fucking yourself on me, you little slut?” Hawke whispered into his ear, one hand around the back of his neck. He gently untied Anders’s hair, letting it loose. He’d never seen it undone, and he liked the way it fell haphazardly over his face. He looked so… unwound. Loose.  _ Himself. _ Justice wasn’t a part of this, he thought, it was just the two of them.

Anders’s jaw dropped open into a moan, leaning his cheek on Hawke’s muscled shoulder.

“You keep talking to me like that and this is all going to be over very quickly,” he said, short of breath as Hawke’s second hand clasped onto his ass cheek, spreading him and slowly bouncing him on his cock. Anders’s moan almost turned angry, biting his lip so hard that it hurt.

“You like that?” Hawke asked, nibbling on his shoulder, “You like knowing what a little whore you are?”

Anders felt himself getting closer, nodding into Hawke’s shoulder, grasping onto him for dear life. Had you asked him a day ago if he wanted to be called a slut and a whore in bed, he would of scoffed. Of course not. He was degraded enough outside of the bedroom, he didn’t need more of it. But this was different, it sent all kinds of feelings through his body. He  _ wanted _ to be a whore if it was for Hawke.

Hawke lifted him from his cock, Anders whining in protest until he realised what was going on. Hawke turned him around and bent him over, pulling his hips towards him so that Anders’s ass was in the air. He was so exhausted that he let it happen, hiding his face in one hand. He was so painfully close before Hawke took it away.

Hawke leant forward and gave Anders’s ass a kiss, leaving a few marks for good luck, before entering Anders all over again.

“Look at  _ that, _ ” Hawke said, gently thrusting, getting the rhythm going again. He quickened, their thighs slapping together in the most vulgar, sensual way. Anders lied there, hiding his face open-mouthed into his hand, his other hand below him, stroking himself. Hawke’s sounds were intoxicating. He’d thought about the sounds he would have made in all his fantasies alone in the clinic, or if, Maker forbid, he wasn’t very vocal at all. This was perfect.

Hawke’s hands rested on Anders’s hip and the small of his back, pounding into him. He could sense Hawke getting as close as he was just by the sound, the semi-erratic way his thrusts came so beautifully out of rhythm.

That  _ feeling _ bubbled up in Anders’s gut and groin, the way it does when there’s no turning back. He moaned, louder than he would have intended had it been a choice, and came hard and fast into his hand and the sheets below him.

_ “Shit, shit--”  _ he muttered, toes curling and legs tensing. The sound of him must have sent Hawke over the edge, too. His voice sounded almost bestial as he moaned through clenched, bared teeth.

Anders felt that warm, slick sensation running down his thigh. He couldn’t help but smile, Hawke throbbing inside of him, thrusting slow and wet now upon his release. Hawke leant over him, kissed the back of his shoulder, then fell beside Anders’s in a wasted heap.

He rested the back of his hand over his eyes, mouth open, panting, one leg curled up and the other stretched out. Anders caught his own breath, turning his head to look at Hawke, his ass still in the air.

“Maker’s breath,” he said so quietly it was barely audible.

Hawke lifted his hand from his eyes and rolled towards Anders, swinging an arm over him and pulling him close. Anders fell to his side, facing Hawke.

“Uh, I have… on my…” he said.

Without opening his eyes, Hawke shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Anders smirked and allowed himself the closeness that was happening between them. Hawke’s eyes opened with that post-sex laziness that made him somehow even more attractive.

“So,” Hawke said, his breathing fast but steady, “would you like me to set you up in the spare bedroom?”

Anders laughed despite himself, and the fear that crept up inside him.

“I’m kidding, by the way,” Hawke said, pulling Anders even closer until their foreheads touched. “I’m not actually throwing you out.”

“Would you?” Anders asked, not even aware he was saying it for a moment. “If you weren’t going to offend me?”

Hawke looked him in the eyes, running his hand along Anders’s scruffy cheek.

“I’d be more offended if you left.”

He nudged him with his nose just a little, kissing him to reassure him.

“Really?” Anders said, his own hand now resting on Hawke’s neck, thumbing the muscles he didn’t expect to feel.

“Promise.”

* * *

Anders woke up in the middle of the night, aware that Hawke was sleeping behind him, his arm under his head like a pillow. A cold sweat drenched his skin, shivers quaking through his body. Justice was in the front of his mind, scolding in his mere presence.

_ “Do not. He is only in the way.” _

Anders shut out the voice and turned around to face Hawke, his mouth open and gently snoring.  _ Cute. _ He rested his head on his shoulder, realising that his hair was untied. When did that happen?

_ “Do not seek comfort in him! He does not understand!” _ Justice was practically screaming. Anders placed his hand gently on Hawke’s naked stomach. Neither of them had gotten dressed. Hawke shifted in his sleep, the arm that was Anders’s pillow curling around his shoulders and hugging him close. The soft snoring continued. He was knocked out.

Justice’s voice, yelling and scolding and demanding his attention, faded into the back of his mind. He focused only on the hair that trailed from Hawke’s chest down to his navel and lower. To his breathing. To the warmth and comfort that he brought… and Justice was gone. At least for now.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Varric, he told us to come here, so that’s what we’re doing.”

Anders was sure, in his half-asleep state, that Isabela’s voice was just part of a dream he was coming out of.

“As much as I want my five soveriegns, Rivaini, I feel a little bad for just letting ourselves in. We’ll find out later.”

“Nonsense,” Isabela said.

“Right this way,” Bodahn said, his voice scarily close to the door. It was then that Anders realised it was not a dream. Panic set in, and trying to move, he realised he was hard locked into being the little spoon. Hawke’s thick arms were tight around his waist and shoulder, and he couldn’t move an inch.

The door came swinging open, Anders lifting his head to see Bodahn at the handle, Varric and Isabela standing behind him.

Varric lifted his arms angrily, Isabela gasping in delight. Bodahn was speechless, his furry dwarven face turning redder by the second.

“I told you!” Isabela cheered, kneeing Varric in the side.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke, couldn’t you have held out a little longer? I had money on you!” Varric scolded. Hawke’s face was in the back of Anders’s head. He was hardly awake, his eyes hadn’t even opened.

“Ughhmmmph,” he moaned in protest. Anders poked at Hawke’s hand, wishing he would wake up and tell them to go away.

“Ohhh, I knew it,” Isabela said, “I just knew it.”

“Close the damn door!” Anders yelled. Bodahn swung it shut quickly, embarrassed for everyone involved, least of all himself.

Anders could still hear the playful arguing outside, then Leandra’s voice calling out  _ “what happened?” _

If the ground had opened up below him and swallowed him whole, Anders would have been completely okay with it.

“They’ll get over it,” Hawke muttered wearily into Anders’s hair.

“Everyone in Kirkwall will know about this within the hour,” Anders said. Hawke loosened his grip as Anders turned around to face him.

“Don’t worry, love, they would have found out about it anyway.”

“What are you implying? That you would have told them?”

Hawke smiled, eyes still closed.

“Varric has a way of finding out these things.”

Anders audibly sighed. There was nothing they could do about it now, but Maker, could Hawke’s mother at the very least be spared of knowing right away?

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine with them knowing.”

Anders felt himself unexpectedly struck by the idea. This warrior, not a drop of magic in his blood - despite his father - unabashedly being seen beside a mage? Anders smiled and sunk into Hawke’s grasp.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.


End file.
